The Cloak
by Totally Raven
Summary: The exploits of the Marauders, seen through the eyes only an Invisiility Cloak has. One of the authors favourite stories. With a little Sirius Remus slash thrown in for good measure.


A/N: An old favourite! Please review if you like it.

Disclaimer: Don't own...

There was a heavy knock on the door

There was a heavy knock on the door. "Come in."

The door was slowly pushed open, and a messy black head poked around it, spectacles glinting in the early morning sunlight. Dumbledore, at his desk, smiled in welcome.

"What a nice surprise. Have a seat."

"I wish it could be a visit with a nice meaning, Professor," the visitor sat, running a hand through his untamed hair. "But I've come with an ulterior motive…"

"To do with the War?" Dumbledore said calmly, offering his guest a cup of tea. He took it gladly, warming his cold hands around it. The question merited only a nod in reply.

"We both know I won't live through this-"

The declaration was cut off with a stern frown. "Not true. With the Fidelius charm in place, you could be saved indefinitely."

A heavy sigh. "I think we made a mistake there."

Another frown. "How?"

"The choice of Secret Keeper. We've discussed it, and it's just not right. It's like, history repeating itself, you know?"

Dumbledore nodded. "You mean like with your parents?"

The brunet nodded. "Exactly. And of course, if we _have_ made a mistake…"

"It's too late to change it." Dumbledore grasped the concept with a hush of doom in his voice.

"Exactly," his visitor repeated.

Dumbledore sighed, setting down his cup. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

His caller shook his head, the long-ish, messy hair tumbling across his creased brow. Like all his friends – those that were still alive in any case – the War had stressed him a lot. And he didn't even want to be a part of it. He never had. Voldemort had thrown him in there, and living by the prophecy as he was, Dumbledore's poor ex-student had no way out.

"Not unless you can change the past."

"I know it's hard, -" he was cut off.

"Don't say my name. I'm sick of hearing my name."

Dumbledore just eyed the young man, somewhat sympathetically.

"I wish I'd trained myself better. I should have … focussed more or something."

"You were a fine student. Besides, there's not much you can do now, except…"

"My best? Yes, I know," the brunet finished speaking with an humorless, almost harsh laugh. "But, yes, there is something you can do for me."

"Anything." Dumbledore adjusted himself in the chair. He was glad he was a great wizard, just so he could hide his pity from his young companion. If he saw the pity, the sympathy, he would be outraged. He hated to be pitied for anything at anytime. He had, of late, forced himself to be as emotionless as possible. Dumbledore hadn't even seen him cry when his young wife had nearly died six months ago.

But the emotion wasn't hidden. That was the thing about this man – he'd never been any good at detaching from his emotions. They constantly got in his way. Something Severus Snape had always loved to point out.

The brunet pulled something from his bag. "I won't live through this War," he repeated. "I know it. So I'm asking you to protect my family, and my friends. If I've made the mistake, they'll be in danger too…

"And to give this to my son when he's older. It's been in my family, as you know, for generations. I'll be very disappointed if he never gets to use it like I did." Finally, a true, happy grin.

"You mean wandering around the school after curfew and out into Hogsmeade, un-allowed?"

"Exactly." Repeated yet again.

Dumbledore sobered again. "Of course I will…" he stopped himself before saying the incriminating name.

"Thank you, sir." Another, smaller, sadder smile. He drained the last of his tea. "I'd better be off."

"Yes. And be careful, won't you?"

"I always am."

-

And years later, Dumbledore kept his promise. It was a little over ten years later, and he remembered his oath to his friend from so long ago. You couldn't break a vow to a friend; especially one made as a death promise. Dumbledore, always a fan of mystery, and ever wise not to tell too much all at once anyway, wrapped the Cloak securely in the under-rated Muggle-style of brown paper and twine. He had already slipped a note into the Cloak's folds.

He had always loved this Cloak. This was the second time the Potter family had left it in his possession, and he was struck by the déjà vu. The Potter's, having always been a rich family had had it spun from the finest Demiguise pelt, and it was obviously in good condition, soft and watery to the touch.

Dumbledore mused lightly as he gave the parcel to Fawkes to deliver. The things that Cloak had seen…

-

"Sshhhh!" James whispered, trying to stifle his own giggles. "Filch'll find us!"

Sirius ignored him, but just kept laughing. He tried to say something, but couldn't. He was laughing too much.

"I can't believe you did that!" James said, and snorted with laughter again.

Sirius spluttered as he tried to say, "She deserved it!" but it came out sounding odd, and James looked at him, grinning.

"I didn't know you spoke Gobbledegook."

They both burst out laughing again, the Invisibility Cloak slipping off of their heads and sliding over their shoulders as they bent double, clutching each other to stop from falling over. Suddenly, there was a cry of, "Hey! You dirtbags kicked Mrs. Norris! Oh, you're in so much trouble!"

"Run!" James cried, and the two boys took off, grinning like idiots, the Cloak trailing behind them.

-

"I swear it, James! Here, look," Sirius spoke in a hushed voice and showed James and Peter the heavy book. The three of them were huddled in the Restricted section (having broken into it) of the library. Sirius jabbed the book under his friend's noses so viciously he nearly dislodged the Cloak covering them.

"But … but Remus is always so friendly," Peter stammered, looking up at Sirius fearfully.

"He's _hiding _it from us, Petie," Sirius explained.

"Oh, wow," James gasped.

"I know it's right. I've kept records of when he's left the school, look…" Sirius thrust another paper at the boys. It showed a record of several months, ticked in red pen when Remus had been away, in blue at new moon and green at full moon. "It _fits_."

"How long have you known?" James asked, his eyes glinting.

"Since New Year. But I wanted to be sure."

"That's nearly a whole year, then."

"I know." Sirius looked at them. Peter stared back; wide-eyed and stunned, James excited but worried. "Remus is a _werewolf_."

-

_Tip-toe, tip-toe_. Remus led the way, on a stealth mission. "I just found this corridor," he whispered (and no one asked how). "How exciting is this, we're gonna be the first kids in our year to go to Hogsmeade!"

"You've already been down it?" James asked.

Remus nodded, excited. "Yeah, it leads straight into Honeydukes."

Peter laughed. "Now we'll never have to buy chocolate again!"

"Why you sly devil, Peter," James said and laughed with him.

Sirius caught up with Remus. "D'you know what we could do, guys?" he said, walking in front of them all, backwards, the Invisibility Cloak draped eerily over his shoulders. "We could make a map – with Remus' discovery skills and my magical expertise-"

The other thirteen-year-olds laughed and Sirius tried to scowl at them but ended up grinning too.

"_Anyway_," Sirius continued, but he was still grinning despite his impressive tone, "If we made a map it'd be a lot easier than having to huddle under the Cloak," Sirius flicked it and half his head disappeared under the flailing end. "I mean, we could magic it so we knew where everyone was! Think about it, it'd be so much easier! I mean, obviously we'd still need the Cloak," Sirius finished hastily, seeing James' slightly downcast face. He was very attached to his Cloak. It'd been in his family for near centuries.

"I think it's a good idea," Remus mused. "And I could certainly find at least one other tunnel out of the school…"

He didn't need to say how. The others had found the Whomping Willow on their own.

-

"Wow, did you find this one, James?" Peter asked as the boys trundled into the large, open, chamber-like tunnel.

"Yep, me and Ol' Trusty Cloak-y." James patted his Cloak before gently laying it onto the ground.

Sirius grinned and tossed himself onto the ground, dropping the two huge Transfiguration books he'd stolen from the library nearly two years ago. The newfound tunnel was just perfect for Animagus practice and study.

"So… time to learn."

"How can Remus not know what we know?" Peter mused.

"Petie, you're a dick," Sirius said warmly. "He doesn't know because we don't want him to. That's why we only practice when he's off…" Sirius trailed off and looked at the ground. Peter didn't seem to notice it, but James distinctly thought he saw Sirius' blushing.

"Hey, we were getting pretty close last time," James said, to change the subject.

"Not me," Peter said sadly.

"Pete, you're not doing that bad. There's no shame in needing a little help, and plus, you're doing much better in 'Fig anyway, just because of this."

"Oh come on, we know I'm an idiot," Peter said with a good-hearted grin.

"Not so bad, Petie-Pete," James said, sitting down with the other two. "Now, give us that book, Sirius."

-

Sirius and Remus hobbled along under the Cloak slowly. "I am sorry," Sirius said softly.

"I know you are."

Pause.

"Are you sorry for hexing me?" Sirius asked a little petulantly, wincing as he stepped onto his damaged leg.

"Not really."

Pause.

"I don't blame you."

"Well, no, you shouldn't."

"I just … I … I don't know, exactly. Snape just … infuriates me."

"I know."

They hobbled on a few more steps, and then Sirius gasped, "Look, d'you mind if we stop a minute?"

Remus sighed. "Yeah, sure."

He stopped and shifted his grip on Sirius' waist, allowing him to slump to the ground, his leg out in front of him. Remus was forced to sit down as well, to keep the Cloak covering Sirius entirely.

Pause.

"Do you forgive me, Remus?" Sirius asked quietly.

Sigh. "Yeah, Sirius. Of course I do."

"Of course?" Sirius asked, looking up. For once, he noticed something in Remus' eyes. It was like it had always been there, but he'd only just realised. But he knew what it was, because it was echoed in his own eyes.

"Yes, 'of course'," Remus said very gently. Sirius felt his heart start to beat faster. He wanted to ask, 'Why?' but found his breath caught in his throat and the sound wouldn't come.

And Remus smiled suddenly and drew Sirius into his arms, hugging his friend. Sirius sighed and Remus gently pushed his long hair back and kissed his neck, once, then drew away.

Staring deep into Remus' eyes, Sirius held onto his shoulders and then lifted his slouched form up to meet Remus' straight backed figure, and kissed him, very carefully, on the lips.

Remus kissed back.

-

Careful steps down the stairs. _Patter patter_. There was no point telling Peter and Sirius to be quiet, James knew. Not now that the map was finally finished (dubbed with their nicknames) and they were definitely safe from Filch for the moment. He'd always rather been out for James and Sirius, even after nearly six years.

Finally, they made it, laughing and chatting quietly, down to Entrance Hall, and James flipped the Cloak off his hand and wrenched open the oak doors. Finally, free of the castle, the boys ripped the Cloak off entirely, shoving it into a pocket, and the three of them transformed.

Sirius picked Peter up gently in his mouth and him and James raced across the grounds to the Whomping Willow. There, Peter was released and the Willow was frozen after some quick tactics and the three raced down the tunnel and into Hogsmeade.

They pelted into the Shrieking Shack, and there they saw their beloved Remus, roaring at the window and digging his claws into his own arms.

Sirius barked loudly, and Remus turned, dropping to all fours, snarling. Then Sirius approached and Remus sniffed him. They hugged in that canine-face-rub kind of way. Safe, James trotted over to them, Peter hot on his heels, and the friends made a night of their still-relatively-new way to break the rules.

-

James rested the Cloak beside him as he moved closer to Lily. It wasn't needed now they had gotten into the cavern-tunnel. He'd already used it to go into Hogsmeade and steal some licorice and chocolate. Remus had given him an expensive nettle wine to try and Sirius had dug up the flowers from the Forbidden Forest. Peter was the one who had gone to the laundry to get James' best Gryffindor shirt washed – to get that grass stain off it.

And then he had simply dressed, gathered his presents, and donned the Invisibility Cloak. It had seen a lot through his time at school. Now that time was nearly over. James wasn't sad.

He had Lily now. He gently kissed her, the gifts lying beside him; the Cloak treated a little more gently than them.

She leant up against his chest, her fingers playing idly with his belt hooks on his flares. Carefully, never breaking the kiss, he slipped his fingers under her shirt, against her soft white skin. One arm wrapped around her waist, under her shirt, and tugged her closer to him.

It was only a pity, James often thought, that he wouldn't need the Cloak now he was leaving school.

But he had no idea how wrong he was.

Because, despite never training to become an Auror (or having a job at all, for that matter), James would use the Cloak a lot in his work for the Order of the Phoenix throughout the next two years. He would leave it in Dumbledore's care when he went off for a month with Remus on a reconnaissance mission. He would lend it to Sirius to infiltrate one of the Death Eater meetings, before Snape swapped sides. He would lend it to Peter for his secret (Order, of _course_, Jim) mission.

And then soon at the end of that he would give the Cloak to Dumbledore in view of his impending death. James wasn't afraid to die. He wished he didn't have to, but he knew his time had come, and when it came he **fought** to show people just who he was in his life.

But he knew he would die.

At least his Cloak would pass safely on, his only possession left, but for his son.

-

Dumbledore sat back at his desk and sighed. Once again, the Cloak lay in front of him. He wished Harry would be a little more careful with it, but then, when he thought about what Harry had been doing with it, it wasn't surprising.

And throughout the Cloak's life with Harry, it would again see many interesting things, though it was never treated with the respect James had given it. But then, James had never been chasing murderers, forbidden mirrors or trying to hide from Snape (who hadn't known about James' having a Cloak. Thanks Harry, for leaving it at the base of the Willow for him) or men with magical eyes. Not until much later in life, any way.

But the Cloak was loved, and that was enough.

Plus, Harry needed it. Dumbledore knew both he and James had made the right decision, that morning, long ago, when the messy black head had poked around the door.

Who guessed it was James and who thought it was Harry at the beginning? Hehe. Oh, this was written before DH (Deathly Hallows) was released.


End file.
